


Heat

by jenesaisquoi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 09:10:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1682873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenesaisquoi/pseuds/jenesaisquoi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a hot, stifling day in South Dakota when Castiel goes in search of Dean and finds him working under the Impala. What to do on a lazy summer afternoon?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat

It’s a hot, stifling late afternoon in South Dakota. The kind of day where clothing is unimaginable and the slide of skin on skin is almost as unbearable; like a good fuck without the pleasure, Dean had said. Castiel does not say this but he would very much like to find a remedy for it.

He emerges from the stifling heat of Bobby’s house into the oppressive air outside. His shirt clings to every inch of skin and sweat pools between his shoulder blades and drips the length of his back. Castiel stands on the top step of the porch, just before the sunlight, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the light, for his skin to the cloying air. The rough fabric of his borrowed jeans chafes in places an angel would not—should not?—give thought to, causing a strange friction that is not wholly unpleasant Castiel will privately admit.

The heat is driving him to madness.

In the distance he hears the intermittent cry of a bird, equally unimpressed with the heat it seems. Over to the left he hears sounds coming from the garage and has found his query. Suffering the blaring sun and heat, he makes his way to the clanks and metallic clinks coming from the open garage door. 

Dean lays under the body of the Impala. His torso is hidden under the car’s chassis, his legs out and bent at the knee, spread almost in invitation. The noises come from the tools that he taps against the garage floor. Not immune to the heat either then, Castiel thinks, watching Dean avoid his task.

“Dean,” he says as announcement of his presence.

There is a violent jerk and then Dean rolls himself part of the way out from under the Impala, placing his hands on the bumper as leverage. He ducks his head enough to see Castiel between his bent legs and under the car’s bumper.

“Can I help you, Cas?" he asks, grumpy and breathy from the heat. "Or did you just come to scare me half to death?” 

“It’s very hot out,” Castiel replies.

“It’s the middle of summer.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Nothing I can do about either of those,” Dean says and pushes himself back under the car. 

Castiel kneels just inside the circle of his bare feet and rests his elbows on Dean’s knees, knowing that Dean will become frustrated as he always does when Castiel initiates any kind of contact since the night a week ago. Good, Castiel thinks, maybe then he’ll do something about helping cope with the heat.

“What do you want? I can’t change the weather, Cas.”

“How do you bear it? Every time I breath in I feel the hot air in my lungs, my head is fuzzy and talking has never been this much effort,” Castiel complains. “It’s terrible. I don’t think I will ever feel clean again, Dean. There is sweat every where, places I didn’t know could sweat. And everything sticks!”

Throughout Castiel’s little rant, Dean has been shifting and squirming his hips to the left and to the right. Maybe he is finally realizing the heat, Castiel hopes. Maybe he finally realizes how uncomfortable it is on this Earth. Or maybe Castiel’s hunch that Dean has been avoiding him for specific reasons is correct.

“Why don’t you go inside with the air conditioning then?” Dean asks finally, like it takes all his effort, the heat swallowing it up.

“It’s broken,” Castiel says. “Which is incidentally what I came out here to tell you.”

Dean, to his credit, does not react with a burst of anger and frustration. He lets his head fall back and mumbles something unintelligible. Castiel leans forward in an effort to catch the words. He sees the stains that litter the old jeans that Dean wears. He also notices the sweat that dots his naked abdomen, his shirt having been lost to combat the temperature.

“Does taking off your clothes really work that well?” Castiel asks.

This does get a bigger reaction from Dean. 

“What? Cas keep your clothes on.”

Castiel is not listening though. He removes his shirt and can better feel the small air movements that bring only a slight relief. Still, he feels as though he can breath somewhat better now and tips his head up. He closes his eyes and lets out a small, contented sound. Dean shifts his hips again. 

“You seem just as distressed by the weather as I am, why won’t you just admit it?” Castiel asks a bit coy, placing his hands on Dean’s knees. He leans on them trying once again to get closer to hear what Dean is mumbling under the car.

“I can’t hear what you say when you talk like that,” he complains.

Castiel is now distinctly aware of his proximity to Dean’s groin. He tries to keep his own mind away from the increased friction of his new position. These moments of awareness have been happening more and more frequently during his interactions with Dean, culminating in a stilted kiss and hip grind. There are times when Castiel will suddenly realize just how close he and Dean are standing to each other, how much it would take for them to increase the distance or close it. These moments have become strong enough to cut through the haze of this summer day too it seems. Castiel finds himself wondering if Dean is actively aware of it as well or if they are commonplace human preoccupations. 

Dean pushes his knees apart in an effort to incline his head to better help his voice carry to Castiel without having to waste precious energy to yell in the furnace of this day. Castiel, not expecting this, loses his balance and falls between Dean’s legs. He can almost see the slight smirk playing at Dean's lips.

They stare at each other a good while before Dean lets his head fall back and says, “It’s like my life is a bad porno.”

“Does it feel good?” Castiel asks on a whim. “When someone drags their hands up your thighs?”

He does that and Dean responds by angling his hips up. Intriguing. Castiel bends his fingers and uses his nails to run up and down the lengths of Dean’s thighs. This time Dean’s hips rise slightly. Castiel decides to squeeze Dean’s inner thighs harder as he continues to move his hands up and down, venturing closer to Dean’s groin each time. There is a small grunt from under the car. Well, may as well find a pleasurable way to deal with the heat at least.

The bird continues its intermittent cawing in the distance. 

Castiel slides his hands between where torso and thigh meet, running his thumbs along the zipper and pushing down gently. There is a sharp inhale from Dean.

“Cas.”

“Dean,” he growls out and goes for the button of the jeans.

“Cas.” Dean’s hands take a hold of his, stopping him. “Cas, stop, what are you doing?”

“I didn’t think it was much of a mystery.”

“Okay, why are you doing this?” 

Castiel idly wonders if Dean is aware that he has been rubbing at the back of Castiel’s hands with his thumbs since he grabbed them.

“Because I want to,” Castiel says and turns his palms up, so that Dean’s knuckles are pushing into the zipper. “Because there has been something driving us closer each day since we met.”

Castiel pushes Dean’s hands harder, up and down, slow and deliberate. He sees the muscles in Dean’s thighs flex and tense.

“Because you want this.”

Deans lets out a shaky breath and pushes his hips up to meet their joined hands. The slow role of his hips is a pleasing sight, Castiel learns. One of Dean’s hand releases his and moves to unbutton his jeans. He stops just after it pops open.

“Cas I want you to know exactly what you’re doing,” Dean says.

It takes Castiel a moment to understand that Dean means this decision as a whole and less so his prowess at sexual acts.

“Some days you coddle me as if I were a child. I am infinite and I have been infinite for a long time now. Barring a few errors, I am capable of my own decisions and accepting consequences,” Castiel bites out as icily as he can manage in the summer inferno.

His ire melts quickly though, with the beating sun at his back. He pulls Dean from under the Impala just enough that he is visible from just above his hip down. Castiel bends over, takes hold of Dean’s hand that remains in his and brings Dean’s forefinger and middle finger to his mouth. He sucks them in slowly and relishes in the twitch of Dean’s hips and his heavier breathing. 

Spreading his legs for a better angle and kneeling in front of Dean, Castiel releases Dean’s fingers, unzips his pants, and swallow him in one fluid motion. The choked off gasp that comes from under the car is reward enough for Castiel’s teasing tricks. He pulls his head off and thumbs at the tip, stroking up and down, until Castiel can see the beginning leak from Dean. He bends his head and laves at it, gently twisting his hand along the base of Dean’s penis. 

He comes back to himself with Dean’s panting and takes a moment to breath himself. The heat is back tenfold now and it is all Castiel can do to slowly and languidly lap at him. He has a vague image of his debauched and semi-defiled look as he continues his slow, lazy seduction of Dean Winchester. 

The bird caws in the distance again. There are no other sounds in the still air save for when Castiel takes Dean to the back of his throat and moans—like a filthy whore, Castiel imagines Dean would say. He cants his hips forward for the growing pressure in his jeans as well. 

Dean has plastered his hips and back to the ground, most likely in an attempt to stop himself from writhing and bucking up into the underside of the car and injuring himself or Castiel, he thinks. His breath is coming in short gasps from the exertion. His pent up strength and taut muscles have gone straight to the pit of Castiel’s stomach and have made this endeavour increasing uncomfortable. He considers for a moment regretting his choice of venues but it has taken his mind off the heat and there is something wondrous about the power he holds over Dean. It is a different kind of power to his angelic strength, far more receptive and... generous.

Castiel continues to pull and squeeze and suck and moan around Dean’s penis and he spares a moment for how off-putting this should rightly be. There are no words that convey to him just how attractive these acts are. He has not been ignorant of these acts of course, having watched over his father’s creation as any angel would be expected to. But in this moment he feels that he has been made succubus, the pinnacle of sensual power, not filthy and sweating on the floor of a garage.

“Cas?” Dean asks amidst his panting. His musings must have caused his mind to wander and so he lifts his head and adds a twist to the base of Dean’s penis. Positioning his head once more, he pulls Dean by the wheeled board he has been on, out from under the car and directly into his waiting mouth.

“Oh fuck me, yes,” Dean shouts, pulling himself up and dragging Castiel’s head up and kissing him squarely on the mouth. It seems Castiel’s power over Dean has come to an end, perhaps it was a miscalculation pulling Dean out from under the car.

Dean makes quick work of Castiel’s jeans and pushes them down to the ground. A beneficial miscalculation it would seem. They face each other and move together, slowly, lazy, in the summer heat. There is an intensity to it, as if once the heat breaks they will fly faster and never look back.

The bird caws again in the distance and more birds join the chorus now. When Dean raises himself over Castiel he has rivulets of sweat running down his face and chest from the trapped heat under the Impala. They drip down to Castiel and he takes in the moment of base pleasure, there is nothing clean about this save the wind that seems to be picking up. Castiel relishes it.

Dean has noticed it too, for he takes a moment to straddle Castiel’s hips, close his eyes and take a deep breath. Castiel feels the cooler air enter his lungs, feels Dean’s strong thighs embrace his own, and he looks up at Dean and smiles. Dean smiles back and dives down to meet him.

They have found their urgency. It with panting breaths that they pull and kiss and squeeze and push and rut and role their hips into each other. Dean leans his forearms on either side of Castiel’s head and sets a deep, slower, deliberate pace as their hips sway to meet each other. 

On this lazy evening in South Dakota, with the distant cawing of birds and a heat that has finally broken, Dean and Castiel meet in urgent cries. The few cries they have let go into the heavy still air. They come together and make a mess of each other but are finally free of the oppressive tension that has permeated their interaction for a week now—if not since their very first heated encounter when they met.

They lay there catching their breaths in the cool evening, panting into the other’s mouth and Dean’s full weight on Castiel. Spent and content, Castiel thinks with a wryness that he can only imagine he's picked up from his time among humans.

“I like your tactics,” Dean says, sitting up and looking down at him with a smile, “Castiel.” The way Dean says his name like a prayer is a music of which Castiel will never tire, though he does wonder if Dean realizes the depths that he expresses himself, bares his heart for Castiel to see. 

“I was growing impatient.”

“Patience is definitely not a virtue is this case,” Dean replies but quickly takes on an air of reflection. “I’m uh, kind of sorry for being so distant.”

“Why have you been?”

“Nerves? I don’t want this to go bad, Cas. And you know, things have a tendency of going bad.”

“That’s no reason not to try.”

“What we have is more than just sex on the floor! It’s messy stuff and hard stuff and,” Dean quiets, “emotion stuff.”

“Why do you see these as mutually exclusive?”

“Because I’m a human who’s never been great at relationships and you’re a fucking angel.”

“We’ve been doing well enough until now,” Castiel points out, sitting up to face Dean.

“We haven’t been anything until now.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow. “No, nothing. For all the things we’ve been through we haven’t been anything or meant anything to each other.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it. This is different.”

“How?”

“Because I know I like you now okay? God, Castiel, why do you have to make things so difficult?”

“Keep calling me Castiel and it’ll be easy as—” he pauses, searching for the correct human expression, “pie.”

Dean’s lips twitch at the corners and he asks coyly, “How about we get some pie, Castiel?”

“I’ll have to think about that, Dean, since everything is so different now,” Castiel answers with what he knows is a poor attempt to stop from smiling.

Dean leans forward and Castiel meets him for a lazy indulgent kiss in the cooling evening air with the distant cawing birds. Dean may think a lot has changed but Castiel knows better, the only thing that has changed is that it’s easier to breath with Dean around.

**Author's Note:**

> I may blame this on finale aftershocks or maybe my own pining after summer, but really I just want these two characters happy and together. I wish the show would stop dragging them apart.
> 
> I also think there just isn't enough Mechanic Dean but I ended up not adding as much as I would have liked due to their other activities. Also my lack of mechanical knowledge. So maybe that's why there's a lack of Mechanic Dean.
> 
> Ah well, I hope it was an enjoyable read :)


End file.
